Begin Part 2

Flight of the Mariposa

The wind about the platform smelled of ozone and salt. It tore at Sharon as though it had power over her. She let it for a few moments, comforted by the pressure on her body. An uncomplicated embrace that expects nothing in return.

Icy spray from the sea far below reached all the way up to the slit opening of the platform. The wind tried to rip away the words as Sharon began to chant, but the wisps around her still heard. They flitted around the great spherical field emitter hovering at the center of the platform. In the ceiling before her, a collection of rings dropped and began spinning in the air. Translucent wings of energy emerged from the wisp, and it shielded her from the storm as she stepped towards it.

Her skirt was sodden with moisture, and the increased gravity of the utmost layer of the hill. The Inside was drawing her back: she wanted to return home, to go back to her family in the depths. She wanted to stand on the hot sands with the dry wind in her hair as she watched her grandchildren play. She clutched the big metallic summoning book to her chest and pursed her lips. The sea called her now, and she must go.

As her chant continued, the wisp hovered behind her shoulder blades, and wrapped her in gossamer light. Its wings became hers, and it lent her limbs strength as she dashed towards the edge of the platform. Sharon did not even pause at the edge, but flung herself out and down the side of the great pylon.

Had it been her own fragile body, she would have been smashed into the sluggish waves. The wisp had fire, though. It drove her up over the endless blue-grey expanse of the ocean beneath a thick cloud cover. She hung low over the cresting waves as if loath to climb to her final destination.

Her whisper-thin Mariposa wings beat through the rising gale with an ease that belied their apparent fragility. Sharon felt the first driven sheets of rain strike her body, and she turned towards the darkest clouds.

As she plunged into the maelstrom of cloud, the stinging rain struck against her face. Occasionally she would let herself go, fold her wings, and be spun freely by the little vortexes of wind.

At last she spread her wings to their fullest, and drove herself into the depths of the ocean. She dove until the ring of light above closed to nothing. She paused for several moments, willing away sound and feeling the cold, comforting press of the water around her. Small creatures congregated towards her glowing frame, drifting calmly about.

Precipitously, Sharon ascended. Faster and faster she rose, until she broke the surface with barely a ripple, rising through calm air, surrounded by the towering eyewall of the great storm.

As she rose above the great cyclone, she allowed the air to touch her skin, hot on her face like a summer day. Sharon was a streak of fire across the sky, fading up to the edge of the world.

Once again she found herself in the black of space. The light of the nearby sun blazed over the arc of the hill. She felt hot on one side and cold on the other. Her wings flitted against imagined air currents as she continued higher. She sang a song of fire and freedom and life, and the blaze came from within now.

She looked at the array of stars circling about her home in the distance. They flickered, flashed, and blinked as they performed their stately dance. Her fluttering wings took her on a zigzagging course to the brightest of the array. By and by she could discern the irregular shape of the star, the first hint of the great spires towering over it.

The Mariposa was achingly fast, and in minutes she was among the towers of the crystal city, high above the hill. Others like her went about their business; here, lighting and disappearing into the buildings, there, emerging in a silent flurry of wing beats. Sharon wound her way through the swarm and the maze of towers, towards her destination.

She lit on a platform on the great central spire, her wings fading away. She sang for the wisp to land on a pedestal nearby, and continued into the tower.

She walked to the end of a short, dead-end corridor, reaching out and touching the wall while softly singing. The city hummed in response. Sharon sang a low verse, and the city replied once more. The crystal webs of the tower broke apart and re-formed into a great spiral stair.

She began ascending the stair, the steps behind her melted back into the structure while others emerged ahead. The helix began to rise as well, lifting her as she continued to step. The top of the stairway met the arch of a doorway at the pinnacle of the tower. It opened as she mounted the last few steps, and she entered.

“Militia Observer Sharon Vega, reporting,” she spoke stiffly.

“Sharon, hello! You are in a formal mood,” noted Michael.

“You sent me a very formal summons. Is something wrong, Michael?” she replied.

“That remains to be seen. We have received an odd request for assistance from an old fortress outside of the salient.”

This piqued Sharon’s interest. “Outside the salient? What kind of request?”

“It is a summons for me in particular, and such capable officers and men as we can spare.”

“Am I counted in the number of capable, or that we can spare?” she asked wryly. “I have family here. Forgive me Michael, I will hear you out, but this does not seem to be an appropriate mission for a militia member.”

“If this was the mission I was considering you for, then perhaps you would be right. For the mission I intend, it makes you an ideal candidate.”

Sharon frowned at this. “How’s that?”

“Something is wrong with the summons. I was unaware of the existence of the fortress it originated from. A fortress is a difficult thing to keep secret.”

“So you suspect it is a Ghing trap?” she asked.

“Not so simply, no. The message is from an old friend. The content does not contain her signals of duress, and it comes through the fire with a good seal.”

“So the potential threat is this ‘Old Friend,’” Sharon surmised.

“She is my concern,” Michael confirmed, “or at least what she may be involved in.”

“I see,” Sharon replied. Her mind buzzed. Michael feels he has a conflict of interest?

“We have representatives from the two fleets selected and preparing to depart. If it is a Ghing that sent this somehow, we must know. I feel that is unlikely. More probable is that it is something to do with schemes of the two fleets. They hold to secrets, and the fortress is a big one. Secrets that big tend to be bad, and I need someone on the triumvirate who will react appropriately if something is awry.”

“Perhaps you would be the better choice, Michael. You can sense if something is wrong as well as me, and you already know this person.”

“That is exactly why I cannot go,” he stated emphatically. “This is a personal matter for me, and I don’t trust myself to handle it correctly. I need someone who is removed from the situation, someone who is not running too fast and has people to care about back here.”

“I see…” Sharon responded.

“You don’t need to decide now. You may head to your quarters for the time being. I have scheduled a briefing with the other two prospective members of the triumvirate in seven hours.”

“Very well Michael, I will see you then.”